


Red Riding Hood (Soulmate Verse)

by SadRose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All hunters are fucked up one way or another, Alpha Peter Hale, And not just Peter, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome Melissa McCall, Awesome Scott McCall, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Bigotry & Prejudice, Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Chris Argent is Bad at Feelings, Corpses, Depression, Dubious Consent, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Enemies to Lovers, English is not my native languag, Evil Gerard Argent, Evil Kate Argent, F/M, Feral Behavior ×feral Werewolves, Fucked up grown ass men, Grooming, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Homophobia, Hunter Chris Argent, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, I DON'T HAVE A BETA READER SO BEWARE OF BAD ENGLISH, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insanity, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jealousy, Kate and Gerard Argent are the worst, Love/Hate, M/M, Manipulation, Maybe - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Not all soulmates are good, Panic Attacks, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Peter Hale is allergic Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sadism, Scott is a Good Friend, Scott is loyal and uses his brain to think not his dick, Serial Killers, Slightly Dark Stiles, Slow Build Obsessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Stiles Stilinski Is So Done with everyone shit, Stiles Stilinski as Little Red Riding Hood, THIS IS MY FIRST FIRST WORK IN ENGLISH, Tags may change with the story progress, Torture, Xenophobia, and also my first fanfic, especially Gerard, like seriously, murders, non-con kissing, psychopaths, seasons 01and 02 and 03 rewrite, that's it for now, they do get their shit together eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadRose/pseuds/SadRose
Summary: After the trauma of his Mother's death, Stiles had always dreaded the concept of soulmates and convinced himself for years if he hated them enough, he'll never have to worry about finding one.So what will Stiles do when he finds out that he has not only one but two soulmates. Both of them are fucked up, grown-ass men who can't be left in the same room for five minutes without lunging at each other's throats.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles pushes his laptop away and flops down on his back. He rubs his eyes with his fingertips and groans. It's the last night of the summer vacation, and Stiles has successfully worn himself down. He wonders how he’s going to pass through tomorrow -the first day of his sophomore year- if _this_ is how he feels now. Stiles thinks about all the talking and gossip about soulmates he'll have to face again and… Ugh. A shudder of disgust rushes through him.

Stiles knows it’s partly his fault for being in such a foul mood. He already started his day off by waking up from another nightmare about his late mother. Then, for some dumb reason, he threw himself in a research spiral about soulmates gone wrong. It wasn't the first time, but it's like whenever he looks again, the number of cases goes higher, and the more horrifying the stories become.

In today's round, he found two new, gruesome stories that happened last month. The first one was about a woman who burned her soulmate's wife and two kids alive when he refused to leave his family for her. The oldest child was seven years old, and his sister was only two, for heaven’s sake. The second story was about a man who abducted, tortured, and raped his soulmate after she rejected him. And don't get him to start talking about the people who got dumped or divorced when their partner had found their soulmate. Families had been shattered because of that. It's a complete clusterfuck.

The actual dilemma lies in the way society keeps a blind eye on those cases. Pretending they don't exist and only focusing on the bright side.

Soulmates have always been sacred, probably since they have always been a unique, mysterious phenomenon, and not everyone is lucky to find their own.

Plus, the majority of the bounded soulmates tents to paint this happy, all sunshine and rainbows picture about their lives after finding their fated other half. How they fit together so perfectly.

Romance novels, movies, songs, and all the media do play a major role in keeping that image printed inside people’s minds. Especially when the main target is the young audience. So no wonder the topic of soulmates and finding one is all that most teenagers think about these days.

But not Stiles…

Stiles knows better than to believe the idea of something so perfect exists in real life, he’s not that naïve, never was. Stiles did his research on the rare occasions he let himself think about soulmates. Because he witnessed firsthand his father’s grief after his mom’s death. He saw how the man, Stiles once believed to be invincible, had broken down and shattered after he lost his soulmate. How he couldn’t live for another day without drowning himself in alcohol.

Stiles does remember how he had to grow up too fast that first year after she passed away. He had to take over most house chores, considering his dad was too drunk and broken to do anything else.

It did get better eventually, but not before Stiles learned how to cook, how to do Landry, how to shop for groceries. Otherwise, they were going to starve and live in filth. While his dad was stuck in his own head more times than not, that stuff like food and cleaning had lost their meaning to him.

Stiles has Melissa McCall to thank for his dad finally snapping out of his grief and mourning spiral. For getting him to start looking out for himself and his only son again.

Stiles has never told anyone how terrified he was, how he couldn’t sleep for countless nights, afraid he would wake up one day to find his only remaining parent dead. He thinks Melissa had seen through him, though, and she made sure his dad knows too. All Stiles knows is he’s forever grateful for her, for saving his last parent from wasting himself away.

So everyone can understand why Stiles hates the whole soulmate thing, and why he refuses to look for his.

The fact that Melissa suffered from her jerk of a husband and soulmate for years. Until the night the asshole ended up hurting Scott, their son. Enough was enough, and Mel had kicked the bastard out of the house and ordered him to never come back. It wasn't long before she divorced him. Even though Rafael McCall is a complete douchebag did not make it hurt less. She was still a complete mess by the end of it.

The divorce happened only a year and a half after his mother died. After watching the woman he considers as a second mother in pain, because of her own soulmate. And with his trauma from his mom's death and dad's grief. It has only entrenched his resentment for soulmates.

To make sure if the Universe only gave Mel a bad soulmate, or if there are others suffering too, Stiles turned to the internet. And after countless hours of researching, his resentment has officially transformed to hatred.

Don't get him wrong, he has nothing against other people wanting soulmates. If they are happy with their relationship, all good for them. But when it comes to him, Stiles wants nothing to do with soulmates, and only hopes he'll never meet his. Usually, it's the other way around. People tend to find his dislike for soulmates weird. They will either try changing his mind or downright mock him and show their disapproval as if he had offended them somehow.

Stiles couldn't care less about their opinion on _his_ _personal life_ choices.

And no, dad, Stiles could be so much happy living his life without having one. He's pretty much fine without one, he has always been, thank you very much!

Stiles sighs and rises up from his bed. He needs to do something now. Perhaps something reckless and idiotic to keep his mind busy for a long while. So he leaves the house, gets in his jeep, and starts driving aimlessly. He's hoping he'll find something interesting to do.

His answer comes about fifteen minutes later in the form of a call on the police radio in his jeep. Apparently, there is a dead body in the preserve, torn in half, and only one half was found. Well, looks like there is something interesting to do after all.

Now if only he could convince Scotty to come with him.

***

Stiles isn't surprised when it took little effort to drag Scott along with his plan. All he had to do is assure Scott that this little night adventure will be a short one. And he'll do fine in lacrosse tryouts tomorrow. Although, he's sure Scott saw Stiles' desperate need to do something wild, like searching for dead bodies in the middle of the night, for example.

His best friend knows him so well by this point, knows that Stiles will go anyway, with or without him. So Scott agreed to tag along, if only to make sure Stiles doesn't end up getting himself killed.

Stiles pulls over to the side of the deserted road, near the preserve. It's almost eleven p.m. Of course, the roads are empty.

Before he can get out of the vehicle, Scott grabs him by the arm and asks, “you still want to go there? We still can go back home, you know. Where we will be safe and don't have to worry about some psycho killer wandering around. Come on, man, you know this is a bad idea on so many levels!”

Stiles pats his shoulder trying to reassure his worried friend, “come on, Scotty boy! You're the one who always complains about how nothing interesting ever happens in Beacon Hills. Well, there you have it! And don't worry, I'm pretty sure the killer won't stick around, not when the police out there searching the woods. _That_ , assuming it was a murder, it could be an animal attack after all.” He gets out before hearing more objections.

Scott hurries and follows him, “if it was an animal, you don't think it will attack us too?”

“With all the noises caused by the party search. It's probably too scared to emerge from wherever it's hiding,” Stiles says with a shrug.

“What about your dad, then? What if he caught us? Oh God, what if mom finds out?!” Scott panics.

“Scott, it will be fine I promise, so long as we stay away from the police flashlights, we won't be caught, okay?” Stiles says, grabbing Scott's shoulders to have his attention. “Trust me, buddy, okay? And where is your inhaler? You brought it with you, right? Do I need to get the one in the jeep?” Scott shakes his head and pulls his inhaler from his hoodie's pocket and takes a puff. “Ok,” Scott says, a bit shaky, “I don't know why I even bother trying to change your mind, you've already decided.” He grumbles.

Stiles grins at him, “you know me so well.” He drapes one arm around Scott's shoulders and resumes walking. “Now stop whining and come on, there's a half body waiting for us to find it.”

Scott scrunches his nose and says, “dude, I don't know if I should be more grossed out, or disturbed by that.” Making Stiles laugh.

***

They head toward the woods and take out their flashlights once the trees swallow them. Stiles doesn't have a specific direction in his mind. He's walking around between the trees, looking for anything suspicious, that would help lead him to his target. Hopefully they won't get caught by his dad, because, God, that would be awful. And he's dragging Scotty with him, who still whines about leaving now and then.

“Ok, this is not working. We have to split up to cover more areas.” Stiles says.

“WHAT? Dude, no! This is how all characters die in horror movies every time! This the most stupid idea ever, and I can't believe it's coming from you!” Scott protests.

“That's because we're not in a horror movie. It's going to be fine, stop panicking too much, it's not healthy for your lungs. Besides, we're going to stay close to each other, so if anything happens the other could hear and help out.” Stiles says a bit annoyed with all the whining.

Okay, he knows Scott's have a point, but really, what could possibly happen?

With that thought in mind, he leaves a still reluctant Scott behind and takes a random path between the trees. He faintly hears Scott walking in a different direction.

The night is a cold one, his thin flannel does a poor job in protecting his body from the cold breeze. He hugs one arm around his torso hoping to get rid of the chill and wishes he put on his hoodie before heading out. But he was kind of lost in his mind, and the need to go out was suffocating him at that moment. It's too late anyway, regretting his poor life decisions now will change nothing.

The woods are silent, which is strange, Stiles thinks with furrowed brows. There should be sounds of the night creatures' life, where are all the animals? Sure, they won't come out while there are humans around. But it's like they have vanished, the complete area feels like it's frozen, no sounds of life, except for the leaves being crushed under his sneakers. If Stiles's honest with himself -which he's not,- he'll say it creeps him out.

He shakes his head and wills himself to continue his mission. Almost ten minutes passed since he and Scott had split up, and still found nothing.

A snapping noise to his far left makes his head turn so fast he almost gives himself a whiplash. Even with the help of the flashlight, he can't see anything. Suddenly, a herd of frightened deer breaks into the clearing where he is, running right into him.

Stiles lets out a frightened shout and trips over his feet in his hurry to get the fuck away before they turn him into mincemeat under their hooves. He scrambles to the nearest tree taking a shield, and curls around himself while waiting for the panic to subside.

Once the last deer disappears, Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to stand up. His legs are still a bit shaky, but he manages. “Get a grip, Stilinski,” he scolds himself, disappointed that a couple of deer had nearly given him a heart attack.

He might be fine, but the same can't be said about his flashlight. It shattered beyond repair. One of the pieces cuts his finger while he was feeling the ground with his hands, looking for the damn thing. He pats his pocket for his phone next, and… not there! Great, just what he needs. What did he say to Scott? About this not a horror movie?

He regrets everything.

He takes one, two, three, four, five, six steps, and his right foot stumbles on a hidden tree root. It sends him face-first to the ground and knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Stiles groans, curses his damn luck, and wonders why is the universe out to get his ass.

He puts his palms on the ground and starts pushing himself to stand up, _again_.

He freezes…

In front of him, there is a pile of bushes. Underneath those bushes, there's an arm sticking out, an arm attached to a sickly pale, naked girl. No, a _half_ girl, because she's missing _her legs_. And, Oh God, those are definitely intestines sticking out of her torso. Oh, look! His phone is about an inch away from her milky, unseen, dead eyes.

Stiles yelps loudly and scrambles backward, away from the half corps. Why, for heaven’s sake, did he think this was a good idea?!

He stills himself, heart pounding so fast in his chest, and reaches a trembling hand toward the phone.

Bile tries to rush up his throat, and he has to swallow several times to stop it from coming out. The last thing he needs is his puck all over a crime scene.

Okay, this is why he dragged Scotty here in the first place, right? He wanted to find the body, and he did. So no need to panic, all he needs is to call Scott and tell him the mission accomplished.

He takes more steps away. Now that he knows the body is there, he can't ignore the foul smell of blood, guts, and decay anymore. Ugh.

He starts unlocking his phone and stops abruptly when he hears it.

A deep, low, guttural voice… A _growl_.

Every strand of hair on Stiles' body stands upright with dread. He keeps stock still, his brain for the first time has one single thought instead of a hundred, _RUN._

He only has three seconds to decide following that thought, when his eyes catch sight of two glowing red orbs hiding in the darkness between the thick trees. In a flash, a massive black shape comes pouncing on him. It sends him sprawling on the ground, wooden sticks and small rocks dig in his back harshly. Stiles screams so loud he's sure the dead can hear him, only for the roar of the thing on top drowns him out.

He's going to die! He's going to fucking die tonight, and his poor father will find his mangled corpse, and… Oh God, his going t… “STILES!” Stiles is vaguely aware of someone shouting his name. His mind can't process anything other than the freaking huge, gleaming fangs decorating the black mass' snarl. The blazing rubies glaring down at his very soul.

The hulk opens its wide monstrous maw - _oh joy, more sharp teeth_ \- and it goes down aiming for what Stiles is sure to be his throat.

Suddenly, the beast closes his massive jaws around a thick tree branch instead of Stiles' neck. The beast backs up to remove the branch stuck in his teeth, “STILES MOVE!!” Yells Scott again… Scott!

That's all Stiles needed to function again and gets out from underneath the thing as fast as he can with Scott's help. And they run like hell.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?!” Scott yells.

“I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! JUST KEEP RUNNING!” Answers Stiles with an equally terrified shout. So running they do. Scott keeps taking puffs of the inhaler all the time running, and all Stiles can think of is how much of a bad friend he is. He's going to get them both killed tonight because he's a whining brat who can't, for the love of God, handle a little bit of depression. He swears if they get out alive tonight, he'll be the best fucking friend to ever exist for Scott.

Although, he knows he can't, because that title belongs to Scotty boy. Scott who's tackled to the ground right this instant!

“SCOTT!” Stiles screams, utterly horrified. “NO!”

His voice is drowned out by the horrific, loud screams of Scott when the hulking beast sinks its huge wicked fangs in his brother's vulnerable flesh.

Terror takes a hold on his entire being. He doesn't know what to do, other than grabbing every rock he could find around him, and throwing them at the monster's head with as much strength as he could muster.

“LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO!” His voice trembles and cracks. Stiles doesn't even register the line of tears streaming out of his eyes, soaking his cheeks.

After long torturous seconds, finally, the beast takes his teeth out of Scott's side, which tears another choked scream out of him.

Stiles flinches so bad he nearly falls back when those blazing eyes meet his own terrified ones. This is it. Now it's his turn to be mauled to death.

Weird enough, the beast -the wolf thing?- straightens up a bit and titles its massive head to the side dog-like. It freezes for a second like it's listening to something in the distance. Then it takes off running in the opposite direction, disappearing into the darkness of the night. It happened so fast Stiles almost thought it vanished in thin air.

He snaps out of his stupor with Scott's pain felled groans. Stiles curses and runs to his injured friend's side. “Shit! Scott, buddy? Can you get up for me? Please, Scott, we need to get you the fuck out of here.”

Scott groans out loud when Stiles attempt to move him. “I think… I have a broken rib or two.” Scott whimpers.

“Fuck! Okay… Uh, okay, I can't even imagine how much this hurts, but we really should get the fuck out of the woods and get you some help,-” Stiles is trying to keep his breathing calm, if only for Scott's sake. Having a freaking panic attack now will not help at all.

“-and I know for a fact you don't want to stay here and wait for that fucking thing to change its mind and comes back to finish mauling us.” He wraps Scott's arm around his shoulders and supports Scott's back with his other free arm to help him stand up. Scott yelps in pain, even as Stiles does his best to be careful not to jostle his side and cause him more damage.

“You're gonna be okay, buddy, just… hold on a little more, okay?” Scott doesn't comment on how his shaking voice says otherwise, and Stiles is so thankful he could kiss him. Scratch that, he should kiss him so hard for saving his stupid ass.

Again, why the hell did he think it was a good idea to come to the woods, looking for a body in the middle of the night. With a possibility of the killer still lurking around. It's the perfect combination of a disaster. Of all his “brilliant” ideas, this one takes the cake.

“I think we're close to the road. Just… please hang on.” Stiles pleads.

Fortunately, it doesn't take long before they see glimpses of the pale blue jeep.

He helps set Scott in the passenger seat, gets in the car, and starts driving away from the preserve. Stiles is so relieved he barely stops himself from kissing the steering wheel.

“You’re ok there, buddy? How are your ribs? Any other pains there?” Stiles blurts out, unable to keep his worry under control.

“No extra pains. Actually, I don't think my ribs are broken either, they don’t hurt that much now.” Scott says, frowning in confusion.

Stiles' own eyebrows mimic Scott's, “are you sure? It could be the adrenaline pumping in your body. God knows you're probably so high with it.”

“Nah, don't think so, bro. The bite still hurt like a bitch. The adrenaline would numb everything, not just one thing, right?” Scott says, hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe, don't know honestly, but it's a good thing, right?” Stiles says with a shaky smile before it falls fast and his whiskey eyes widen in sudden panic. “Unless you're going into shock, are you going into shock? Please tell me you're not going into shock!” Stiles' breath begins to hyperventilate.

“No! I'm not going into shock! Jesus, Stiles! Take a deep breath and calm down before you have a panic attack and flip the car!” Scott shouts at him. “We didn't survive that thing attack, whatever the hell it was, just so we die in a car accident!”

“Okay, I'm calm, see? Totally calm.”

Stiles sags in the seat with relief. “Oh, thank God. I can only imagine what Melissa will do to me if I take you to the ER going into shock, with a bleeding, huge ass bite on your side.”

Startled, Scott screams, “you're not taking me to the hospital!! Are you nuts? Mom would kill me if she saw this!”

“So what? Am I supposed to take you home like this? Dude, you're bleeding!” Stiles says, incredulous.

“Look, just take me home, okay? I'll take care of it myself. And It's not even bleeding that much anymore. But mom should never know about this. I'll be so dead, man!” Says Scott, puppy brown eyes on full display.

“Ugh, fine! But I'm not responsible if you get rabies or something.” Well, technically, he is responsible for everything that happened tonight. Therefore, he is responsible for whatever might result from this night's events. So if anything happens to Scott…

He shakes those terrible thoughts off, and his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

Scott will be ok, Scott will be ok, Scott will be ok…

It keeps replaying over and over again inside his head like a mantra. Maybe if repeated enough times, he'll start believing it at some point.

***

Half an hour later, Stiles parks the jeep in the McCalls' driveway. Melissa's car is still absent since she has a night shift and won't be home till the next morning, thank God.

Stiles goes to help Scott out of the car, but he's surprised when Scott gets out on his own with only a wince. Maybe Scott was right, and his ribs are fine.

Stiles' shoulders lose some of their tension but still couldn't shake off the iron hold fear has on him. Not until he makes sure Scott wouldn't bleed to death, even if Scott said he isn't. Stiles needs to see it for himself.

Once inside the house, Stiles manhandles Scott into sitting on the couch in the living room. He runs to the bathroom, takes out the first aid kit box from the cabinet, and runs back to Scott.

He finds him poking at the bite wound, and wow, that's one huge, ugly motherfucking bite.

Stiles gets assaulted with images of Scott's guts outside his mauled body, swimming in a pool of his own blood and…

Stiles' stomach lurches violently, and he has swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and does the best next thing, which is snapping at Scott.

“The hell are you doing? You do not touch a gaping wound with dirty hands! I am SO disappointed in you right now I don't even know where to begin with! Your mother is a nurse, dude. She would have a heart attack if she knew about this!”

“She won't BECAUSE she will never know about this whole damn night had happened!” Scott snaps back, but at least his filthy hands are away from the bite now, small victories.

Stiles sighs aloud and kneels in front of the couch to have a better view.

Huh… On closer inspection, the puncture marks aren't as deep as he first thought, Which is super weird. Stiles could swear the beast had sunk its teeth all the way down in Scott's side.

“By the way, how did you find me back there?” Stiles asks while cleaning the bite with a gentle hand.

“I thought I heard you scream, so I changed my direction to check out. Then you screamed again, and I ran to you.” Scott says.

Stiles' eyes start to sting at how fucking casual his answer was. Like it's so normal to attack a terrifying hulk of a beast with a simple tree branch as a weapon. When the more logical action would be getting the hell out of there and saving his own life. Not fucking risking it for Stiles and getting mauled in the process.

Stiles blinks several times and puts some bandages on the bite. “Don't you ever risk yourself like that again. You hear me? If anything remotely close to this happened again, you _will_ run like hell the other way and never turn back. Understand?” Stiles snaps, sudden anger bubbling up his guts. “What you did there was downright stupid, and, God Scott, don't you ever scare me like that.” He wraps his arms around Scott in a fierce yet careful hug. He shuts his eyes tight and breathes in his friend's smell, axe deodorant, and minty shampoo, although it's overpowered with the stink of rubbing alcohol, dirt, sweat, and the rusty smell of blood on his ruined hoodie. It helps a little to reassure him Scott is here and going to be okay. He didn't lose his best friend.

“I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done for me,” Scott says, hugging him back.

He's right. If their roles were reversed, Stiles wouldn't hesitate a second before throwing himself to danger to save Scott's life. If it meant becoming a chew toy for monsters, so be it.

Hell, if the beast didn't let Scott in that instance, Stiles was going to lunge himself at it as a final desperate attempt to free Scott. “Thank you… and I'm so sorry, I… just thank you, thank you.” Stiles chokes out. Nuzzling Scott's shoulder.

Scott pats him on the back, “you're welcome!”

Reluctant, Stiles pulls back from the hug, a forced grin plastered on his face, “my personal idiot hero!” He says.

Scott rolls his eyes, but a happy smile takes place on his face. Satisfaction and contentment radiating from him, and Stiles' grin softens to a small smile.

And Stiles gets it. For all their childhood, it was Stiles who protected the two of them from the bullies; it was Stiles who took the heat of the most harassment; he made sure of it. And he was fine with it, as long as his frail, asthmatic friend stayed safe and sound. And God have mercy on whoever dared touch Scott. After a series of vicious pranks in fourth grade, when some asshole thought it was funny to steal Scott's inhaler. Everyone knew not to fuck with Stiles Stilinski's best friend.

So Stiles understands Scott's happiness and satisfaction right now. He finally was able to protect Stiles. Granted, it's not the same, Stiles' life was never under threat when they were bullied, but it doesn't matter to Scott. He saved Stiles, and he's happy and proud. The end of the story.

***

Stiles goes back home after insisting on Scott calling him should anything happen.

He runs straight to the bathroom and falls, knees hitting the unforgiving floor hard. He barely has time to register the sharp pain, and he lurches forward, emptying his stomach contents into the toilet.

He reaches a shaky hand and flushes the water, and drags his uncooperative body to lay against the wall near the toilet seat. Standing is out of the question, let alone do something else, like watching his mouth, not with how bad are the tremors rocking his body.

It was a real test for his control, staying as calm as he was in front of Scott, so he wouldn't stress him out even more.

Now in the safety of his bathroom, the panic attack he kept pushing down, is back and hitting him full force.

He's gasping for air, lungs burning from lack of oxygen, his heart beating so fast it might as well explode. And white and black spots filling his vision.

Stiles does nothing to prevent the attack. He lets the panic and pain consume him. It's the least punishment he deserves.

So when the blissful, silent darkness sneaks in, he closes his eyes and gladly lets it take over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the tags, English is not my native language, and it has been years since I studied it in school. So I'm aware of my bad grammars and weak writing.  
> This is my first work in English, and I'm using it as an exercise to sharpen my writing skill and relearn the language.  
> I was conflicted for a while if I should write this FanFic and posted, or just forget the entire thing. So I'm super anxious and self-cautious right now, but also excited to see if someone would enjoy my writing. Please don't hesitate in leaving your feedback, I would love to read your comments and know what you think.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter, have a nice day everyone. See you soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please, check out the notes at the end of the chapter for warnings.

_ His legs are burning, but he can't stop, he needs to keep going. 'Run, run, run!' Chants the frantic, little voice in the back of his mind, 'you stop, you'll get caught. You get caught, you're dead. Run, run, run.' And running he does. _

_ He pushes and pushes through the aches wrecking his worn out body. Every ragged breath cuts through his inflamed lungs like shards of glass. An unpleasant heaviness surrounds his being, making it even more impossible to move. The next step he takes, his foot gets caught in a thick tree root and sends him sprawling on the harsh ground. He tries to get up with no success, he only manages to flip over and settles in a sitting position. The weird heaviness gluing him to the ground.  _

_ Despite running for God knows how long, it doesn’t seem he achieved any progress. From what little he can see, Stiles could tell he’s still in the same Goddamn Clearance. Actually, he didn’t get far from the point where he started at all. A sense of despair consumes him, and a blinding fear creeps in, choking him. _

_ This isn’t right. The entire place feels WRONG, horribly wrong. The clearance is dark, like midnight dark? Stiles doesn't know for sure, there is no watch or a phone around, and his sense of time is pretty much fucked up at this moment. He's aware he's in the woods, he can make out the treeline in the distant thanks to the faint moonlight. Strange, Stiles could swear just a second ago it was complete darkness. He lifts his eyes to the sky and loses his breath. Even the moon appears wrong, it's almost ten times bigger than normal. It's massive, closer to earth than it should be, illuminating a captivating pale blue and radiating a cold rattling his fragile bones. It’s an intimidating and terrifying sight. _

_ A twig snap brings his attention to the gloomy treeline again, and wait, wasn’t it at least thirty feet away? How did it shrink to a barely ten feet?! _

_ Stiles squints his eyes, trying in vain to espy anything through the haze of faint blue. Not a second later, he catches the sight of two blazing eyes, their red color a striking contrast against the pitch-black surrounding them. ‘No,’ the voice screams, ‘get up and run. Run,run, RUN!’ He parts his quivering lips to say ‘I’m trying, but I can’t’ but the words don’t come out, they stuck halfway up his throat, his tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. His entire jaw numb, paralyzed and refusing to obey his wishes. _

_ The menacing orbs get closer when a huge black figure emerges from the trees. ‘The beast,’ his panicked mind supplies. It’s complete coated with jet black fur, covering what Stiles can see, an enormous amount of muscles. He never would have guessed wolves are ripped. Then again, he's not entirely sure if it’s a wolf. The head appears wolf-like, with the snout and pointed ears, but it doesn't look right. The shape of the eyes and forehead is strange in a disturbing way, and he can't put his finger on why, which scares and frustrates him in equal measures. _

_ Suddenly, the beast-wolf, honest to God, stands on his hind legs, like full on stands up. Not like an animal trying to mimic humans, but exactly like a human being. His brain has kind of short-circuited and he freezes as the terrific scene unfolds before his eyes. If he thought the thing was huge while crouching, well, now standing and towering over him, it's at least double the size he used to think it was. _

_ The wolf-human hybrid monster -Stiles knows there's a word for it, it's on the tip of his tongue but refuses to come out- takes a slow, yet big step towards him. It doesn't seem in a rush at all, like it's aware Stiles has nowhere to go, let alone moving from his spot on the ground. It doesn't take the behemoth more than three wide strides to close the remaining distance between them. The moonlight casting on its back helps with nothing but boosting its homicidal aura. _

_ The beast moves its right arm -and yeah, it's an arm, not a front leg- and Stiles catches sight of something round in its hand. He doesn't need to wait and the beast throws the thing at Stiles' feet. _

_ It's a severed head, a human severed head. Scott's head. _

_ No. _

_ No, no, no, no!! _

_ Not Scott, please God, not Scott! _

_ But it's him, his ridiculous, floppy, soft hair is drenched in blood and clings to his forehead. His once tanned skin is paper white pale. And his eyes, the most feature Stiles adores about him, always full of life, innocence and joy, now completely dull and empty and very, very dead. _

_ No! _

_ He doesn't have the luxury to even scream his anguish and grief, the moment he lifts his teary eyes up, is to find that very same clawed hand up in the air, ready to strike. _

_ The pain is almost a twisted kind of relief, like a well deserved punishment. _

_ 'See you soon Scotty,' is his last thought while choking on the warm blood rushing out his shredded throat.  _

_ *** _

He bolts up from the bed, choking on a scream and clawing at his throat, before the tangled blanket restrains his movement and forces him down again. Stiles lays there panting, his heart pounding a mile away. Eyes shut tight.

"Just a dream," he says in a hoarse voice, "a very, very bad dream."

It takes several minutes, but he manages calming down a little.

He brings a slightly trembling hand up his neck and massages the aria gently. Stiles still can feel the lingering pain in his throat. It doesn't surprise him really, his dreams always tend to be more vivid than what's normal, especially the nightmares, those are the worst, which sucks since eighty percent of his dreams are nightmares.

_ Werewolf,  _ that's the word he couldn't remember, "it was a werewolf," Stiles snorts. His brain never failed to amuse him, always eager to come with the most horrendous, and terrific imaginations, like some sick sort of competition, the more awful the better.

Werewolf, really?

He grimaces at the clammy feeling on his skin, his clothes clings to his form, even the bed sheets are damp from cold sweat. 

Stiles lets a long exhausted sigh and heaves himself up to his feet. The digital clock on the bedside table says it's only five thirty in the morning. So he got four hours of sleep, (passing out on the bathroom flour for an hour doesn't count,) and no way in hell he'll be able to sleep back now. Better start his day early then, and maybe swing by Scott and make sure he's okay ( _ he's alive _ ), they can go to school together.

He takes a ten minutes cold shower to help wake him up, and rinse off the sweat and the panic residue. He skips breakfast, he wouldn't be able to hold it in his queasy stomach anyway.

He checks and makes sure not to forget anything important before heading out of the house, locks the door firmly and goes to his beloved jeep.

It's still only ten minutes to six o'clock, and he can't shake off this intense feeling that today's going to be a long day.

***

Stiles reaches to ring the doorbell, but it opens fast before he can. He blinks twice, surprised. Scott is standing in the doorway with a crazed look in his dark eyes. Alarm bells start ringing inside his head. Scott grabs him by the front of his t-shirt, pulls him into the house before Stiles can mutter a single word. He continues dragging him up the stairs and doesn't let go until they are in Scott's bedroom, then turns to face him.

"Dude! What the hell was that for?" Scott doesn't bother talking, instead, he lifts the hem of his t-shirt and gestures wildly at his side. The first thing Stiles notices is the absence of bandages.

"Dude! You're not supposed to leave the wound exposed! It w…" Stiles' voice gradually wavers off until he falls silent, shell-shocked. Because... What wound?

"What the hell?" Where last night were huge teeth punctures and ruined reddish skin, now all Stiles sees is smooth, healthy, tanned skin. Not a single trace of the bite. What the fuck?

"I know!" Scott says, frustration and confusion painting his voice. "How… How is that even possible?" Stiles asks no one in particular, voice shaky and distant, and eyes still glued to Scott's side even though it's covered now. His brain wheels are already spinning so fast, trying to analyze and come with possible explanations for this incredible phenomenon.

He startles when Scott shouts out, "I don't know!" He starts pacing the room back and forth like a lunatic, "and that's not the only weird thing that happened!" Stiles is getting closer and closer to full-on panic.

"I woke up to this strange thudding noise. First, I thought it was the neighbors being loud again, but it wasn't. Because the noise was coming from my room itself and I couldn't pinpoint from where exactly. Then I noticed a second similar sound coming from downstairs, so I followed it to the kitchen where my mom was making breakfast. The thudding noise, it was coming out from her." Scott stops to take a much-needed breath.

"What was the noise, Scott?" Stiles asks slowly, dread creeping at him. He already has an idea.

"Heartbeat, it was her heartbeat. And the first one? It was mine." Scott answers with equal dread. "Once she left for work, I ran up back here and this happened," he walks to his desk, grabs something on top of it, and holds it out to Stiles who takes it with a slightly trembling hand.

It's a doorknob, with dents on it that look alarmingly fingers-like shaped. Stile's eyes snap up to the door, finally noticing the cracked wood around where the said knob should be. It’s like the thing was pulled with such strength it shattered the door’s wood. “Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Scott says, pointing at the flabbergasted expression on Stiles’ face.

“The heartbeat thing? I thought I was losing my mind, but ripping out a fucking metal doorknob and fucking bending it with my bare hand like it’s made of butter? I was officially freaking the fuck out.” Scott curses, Stiles rarely hears him curse, and it’s never good when he does.

“Then I broke the faucet when I tried opening the water-” Scott sounds close to becoming full-on hysterical with every word, “-so I went to change my soaked clothes and bandage, and boom! No freaking bite wound! Then I heard you coming and-" he stops abruptly, "Woah, your heartbeat’s so fast, man, maybe you should calm down before you get a heart attack.” Scott says out of the blue, turning from freaking out to concern and worry in a split second.

“Okay first, that’s rude, man. I have the right to freak out too. And secondly, you’re telling me you woke up having super hearing and strength, and your big ass wound had vanished like magic. And my heart’s what concerns you?” Stiles says, disbelieve oozing from him. How is Scott even a real person? No one should be that good, too much goodness always drives to heartbreak.

“Well, I can’t help it! It sounds like freaking drums being played inside my head, it’s so distracting and drives me crazy!” Scott shouts miserably and sits down on the bed with a thud. Stiles immediately regrets everything and his heart clenches with guilt. Because he starts forming an idea about what’s going on with Scott. No matter how crazy and impossible it sounds, if it turns out to be true, then he’s responsible for everything happening to Scott. The problem is, he has no idea how Scott will take it.

Stiles lets out a shaky sigh and sits beside his friend. He wraps one arm around Scott’s slightly trembling shoulders and rubs soothingly at his arm. When he speaks, his tone is soft, reassuring. Although, who is he trying to comfort? He’s not sure. “Hey, we’re gonna figure this out, and you’re gonna be alright, okay?” Scott nods without meeting his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

“Okay, I…” he stops and clears his throat, “uh, I might have a theory, but I need your answer to confirm something first.” Scott’s attention is on him again, eyes so hopeful they hurt, “okay, what is it?” He asks.

"Scott, the thing from last night… what did it look like to you?" He makes sure his tone stays even and low. Scott frowns in confusion but answers anyway, "I think it was some kind of wolf? But it was huge, bigger than any wolf breed I know of. But…" His frown deepens, "it was… I don't know if what I saw is real, or I was so terrified I started hallucinating, but it looked somewhat deformed, like-"

"A horrifying mix between a human and wolf." Stiles interrupts him, arms tighten around Scott to keep from shaking. "Yeah, exactly! It was so creepy, and I can't shake off the feeling that I had seen something like that somewhere before," Scott says frustrated and scared.

Stiles' heart sinks even more, "that's because we did," he says, voice strained. His mind is already lost in the memories of haunting crimson eyes filled with a frightening amount of awareness to pass as an ordinary animal. Or colossal paws with wicked claws on the tips of disturbingly long human-like fingers pinning him down. Before he came to Scott's house, he did his damn best to block the memory of the beast away. He was convinced it was just his brain deceiving him into seeing unreal things. Because Stiles knows how his mind could be a horrifying place sometimes. Especially when Stiles's beating himself down for something stupid he’d done, his brain would conjure the worst, possible odds. Sometimes even the impossible.

For the moment, though, the impossible is turning dangerously fast to the possible category.

“We did? When?” Scott asks, surprised. Stiles inhales deeply, "Scott, you remember the underworld movie, right?" He asks carefully.

"Yeah, I do, but what does that have to do with anything?" Stiles keeps silent and waits for it to sink in.

He watches Scott's expressions go from confusion to realization, then shock and disbelief, and finally settling in utter horror.

"NO!!" He shoots up from his spot on the bed and stands in the middle of the room in a flash. Stiles blinks in confusion for a moment, because wow, the movement was so fast he couldn't even track it.

"No, I am NOT a freaking werewolf Stiles! This is serious! Something's wrong with me, and I can't believe you would joke about like… No Stiles, it's impossible! I can't be!"

Stiles rises from the mattress slowly and starts walking towards him, hands raised in a peace gesture. Because Scott is freaking out of his mind. It doesn't matter he outright accuses Stiles of making fun of him, that's just a verbal accusation and means nothing. What matters to Stiles is the look in Scott's eyes. The fright, the hopeless desperation in them for Stiles to say yes, it was a lame joke, and then tell him the truth.

It's kind of a rule they obtained over the years of their friendship. If some bad shit happened and one of them said a crazy thing about it, if in the next ten seconds didn't dismiss it as a joke, then that shit was real no matter how bad or unreal it sounded.

It was never this crazy before, though.

" Scott, buddy, you really should calm down, o-"

"Don't tell me to CALM DOWN! I don't wanna calm down! No, just… NO!" Stiles freezes, eyes widened in shock as he watches in a combination of fascination and horror how Scott's innocent, rich dark chocolate eyes flare an unnatural, predatory electric yellow. It's a breathtaking sight.

"Scott," he says, so soft and breathless. But Scott isn't having it, he grabs Stiles by the arms and starts shouting in his face. "Stop! Just stop messing around and tell me the truth, please!" The words come out slightly slurred, and that's when Stiles realizes it's not only the eyes that changed. He looks at Scott's mouth and, yep, those fangs definitely weren't there before. They're long and sharp, like canine fangs.

Stiles has to swallow down the heavy lump of fear closing his throat, "it's, uh, it's not that. Scott, your face…" he trails off when he notices a pricking sensation in his arms, and he has a sickening feeling about the cause of it.

"What? What's wrong with my face?" His hold tightens and the sharp prickling becomes more painful. Not to mention that Stiles feels like the blood circulation has been cut off in his arms.

"Scott," he squeaks, "you have to let go right now." He tries to free himself, only to gasp at the sudden flare of sharp pain. He can feel his skin breaking, and he's so sure his arms are one second away from snapping under the impossible pressure.

"Scott, let go!" He didn't intend to shout the words, Stiles knows he should keep calm, stomp on the fear and keep it locked deep down. Because Scott is, with absolutely no doubt, a freaking werewolf now, which means he's a predator, with the instincts of one. You do not provoke those instincts by acting like a fucking frightened prey.

But he can't, the panic is raging inside him, clawing its way out, and clouding any rational thinking. "Scott, let me go. You're hurting me!"

Finally, Scott snaps out of the desperate anger taking hold of him and retrieves his hand like he was burned. Then he freezes both hands still hovering between him and stiles, and they both just stare at them.

Scott's mouth opens and then closes several times, unable to utter a word, his unearthly eyes enlarged with shock. And even if Stiles felt the evidence on his arms, that didn't help stifle his own reaction, although it was more of a fascination and awe.

The heavy silence stretches in the room, both their eyes transfixed on Scott's hands, taking in the sight of long, menacing claws replacing the usual blunt, human nails.

"What the fuck?" Scott finally says, stunned, "Stiles?" And Stiles swears that was a whine, an animalistic whine, like a wounded dog. Scott flinches and looks startled by the sound as much as Stiles is.

"It's okay, Scott,"  _ it's really not,  _ "I need you to stay calm and not freaking out even more while I show you something in the mirror. Can you do that for me?" He asks and closes the distance between them with more caution.

Maybe it’s the shock of his new ability to grow magical claws now, But Scott doesn’t resist when Stiles grabs his wrist and tugs him gently to the bathroom. He stops and makes Scott face the mirror. He watches anxiously as Scott takes in his new appearance. Stiles doesn’t know how much time has passed while they’re standing there, with Scott touching his visage with trembling hands, then flinching hard when the claws prickle his skin. His expression goes from disbelieving horror to resignation and exhaustion.

“I'm a werewolf.” He says, at last, not really sounding completely there. And when Stiles looks at him, his neon eyes are even shinier with unshed tears, it fucking shatters Stiles’ heart. He did this, he fucking Caused this to happen, like he caused his mother…

“Yeah, you’re a werewolf now, buddy,” he wraps Scott’s shaking form in a firm hug, but not tight enough to make it feel caging. “But hey, we should look at the bright side too.”

“What bright side?” Scott asks and clears his throat when his voice comes out hoarse. “You probably won’t need the inhaler again,” Stiles answers and Scott looks at him with confusion. “Why wouldn’t I need it?”

“If the Lycanthropie-” “what’s a Lycanthropie?” “Just a more fancy term for your new furry state,” “oh.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, if it could heal your injuries overnight, and gave you super strength and senses. It might as well have cured your asthma. And you freaked out a lot since I came here, and I didn’t see you once using your inhaler.” If he’s right, this could be the only good thing in this whole mess.

Well, okay, there is also the super strength and senses. But Scott is a freshly bitten werewolf and prone to losing control at some point, the evidence's still stinging in Stiles' arms. So they don't count as good benefits, not yet, not until they figure out how to keep Scott in charge of his new wolfie self.

"You might be right, now that I think about it, my lungs never felt this better before, I can breathe freely now!" Scott says with awe, "Stiles! I can finally play lacrosse and make it to the first line now!" Excitement dripping from his voice.

_ Wait what? _

"Wait what? Scott, no! You can't play lacrosse, what's with it being the literal definition of angry, violent sports. What do you think will happen if you lose control because some jerk pissed you off in the field?"

Scott's eyes widened and the color drained from his face, "I could end up killing someone." "Yes, my point exactly," before he says anything else Scott shouts, horrified, "oh God! I did hurt you!"

"Yes, wait, Scott calm down! It's not even that bad! You were terrified and accidents happen, it's okay."

"No it's not, oh God, I'm so sorry!" He's on the verge of tears now, and no, Stiles can't let him cry, that will literally kill him.

Stiles cups his face in his palms and makes Scott focus on him, and tries to ignore the feeling of his ears enlengthen under his fingers. That's something to be examined later. "I said it's fine, look at me, it's just a tiny scratch, I'm fine! You were scared and confused and didn't know what you were doing, everyone do stupid shit when scared shitless. I  _ know  _ you would  _ never  _ hurt me on purpose. Come on, man! Don't start crying on me, or I will cry too, and you don't want to witness me crying. Like, seriously, I'll be full-on wailing and choking, with too much snot and tears, trust me it's an ugly sight you should never encounter. Save yourself the trauma, man, come on!"

His babbling strategy worked like a charm, it always does with Scott. Now if only it could work on his dad, ugh, well, beggars can't be choosers, he guesses.

"Yeah, I remember you sobbing when you accidentally squashed Mr.Poma the frog with your bicycle. It was not a nice view." Scott says grimacing. "Hey! It was totally your fault he escaped his glass box and ended in the backyard! You left the damn thing open!" Stiles protests indignantly, he lets Scott ONCE fed his pet frog after so much begging. Just for Scott to forget closing the box after, and his poor frog ended up dead not a twenty minutes later.

"And I kept apologizing for two months later. When will you forgive me for that?" Scots whines. "Never!" Stiles answers vehemently.

"But are you really okay? I know I have, like, crazy super strength now, and I did grab you pretty hard. You sure you're okay?" Despite calming down, the concern is still Palpable in Scott's voice and eyes.

Stiles waves dismissively, "nah, I'll be fine. There will be some bruises tomorrow, yeah sure, but I'll live. Don't worry and stop giving me that look, God," he says at the guilty eyes Scott's shooting at him. "We have more important issues to fix right now. For example how to convert you to look like your dumb human self again."

"Hey!" Scott says, offended by the insult before he goes still like he just remembered that he doesn't look completely human at this moment. "Oh God! What are we gonna do? I don't know how to change back!" He screams, then winces and covers his new sensitive ears, and startles at their new weird shape.

"Will you stop screaming already? And please, calm the fuck down, I think that's the solution for the situation, since you started shifting while raging and freaking out."

"You sure?" Scott asks skeptically.

"Oh absolutely,"  _ liar.  _ He doesn't know shit about anything, but Stiles is observant, he always notices the small details, and proceeds in finding patterns and links and building theories. He's the sheriff's son after all, so this shouldn't be any different than other situations, hopefully.

"Look, all I'm saying is if being in a high emotional distress triggered the shift. Then by logic controlling your emotions should help you change back." Stiles says, and he makes sure his tone stays even, so Scott will believe him. "Because if not, we'll have to stay here, no way we're going to school with you like this. The best case scenario is people will assume you're a weirdo dressing way too early for Halloween. The worst case is if werewolf hunters are a real thing too, and you get spotted by one. We can't afford some asshole shooting you down, now can we?"

"You think some crazy dudes out there with guns and silver bullets are watching and waiting to shoot whoever they suspected to be a werewolf?" Scott asks incredulously.

At his tone, Stiles raises a brow and deadpans, "oh I don't know. An hour earlier I believed stuff like werewolves exist only in movies and fiction. So what do I know?"

Scott sighs and apologizes, "sorry, you’re probably right-” “damn right I am.” “-even if they don’t exist, better safe than sorry, no need to broadcast my new statue. The last thing I want is causing mass hysteria.”

“Look at you, being a reasonable person and stuff. If only you use your brain like this in studying too.” “Hey!” “What? It’s true.” Scott huffs in annoyance and sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Back to work, therapist Stilinski here to help you resolve your emotional conflicts.” Stiles says with an exaggerating seriousness.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Scott snorts.

“Hey! I didn’t even use the stuck daddy issues joke.”

“Well, you better not!” Scott says with no real heat, they grew up together after all, they both understand each other’s pain when it comes to their parents. How sensitive they could be about it.

“Okay, shut up now and let me help you,” “fine,” “and look! It’s working already, your claws disappeared!” Scott looks at his again human nails in surprise, “they did!”

“Yes! Now let's work on the rest. Close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose while counting to four. Hold it and count to seven. There you go. Okay, now exhale through your mouth, while counting to eight. Good job! Repeat the whole process again, come on…”

It's a slow progress, but maybe, by some miracle, they'll make it to school in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning of the chapter Stiles had a vivid nightmare where he sees Scott had been killed, and the best killed him too.
> 
> Also I don't know why the tags got so messed up like that. I tried fixing them more than once, but the won't stay in the order I putt them in. So please just ignoring the mess.
> 
> This is actually only half what I originally planned to write for chapter 2, but I'm sick and sleep deprived and so exhausted, so I split it in half, otherwise it will be another week or so before posting. And I didn't edit anything so beware of bad writing.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think.
> 
> Good day everyone 💕


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